


Head in the Clouds

by jaeren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Enemies to Lovers, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Eren Yeager is in Denial, F/F, F/M, Older Eren Yeager, Slow Burn, and our favorite maniac as a rake, and slow updates lol, dukes and duchesses and kings and queens, someone should hold me back from writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeren/pseuds/jaeren
Summary: You’re marrying the heir to the dukedom, Zeke Yeager. So why does his younger rake of a brother thrill you so?(Bridgerton inspired historical AU)
Relationships: Eren Yeager & Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss & Ymir, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi/Erwin Smith, Zeke Yeager/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 185





	1. but my gravity’s centered

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stop myself, I really did. But then I listened to a [violin cover ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zURc34YPmI0&ab_channel=JoelSunnyViolin) of Sweater Weather and I — just couldn’t help myself. Also I know nothing about the Regency era in particular besides what was on Bridgeron, so please forgive me for any historical errors. It’s why I labeled this as more of a Bridgerton inspired historical AU than a Regency Era AU lol 

**Head in the Clouds**

_ (but my gravity’s centered) _

You gasped awake, and clenched the sheets tightly against your bare chest.  _ No no no no no _ echoed in your head, a cacophony of your regret ringing like church bells in your head. Or perhaps it was a headache from whatever you’d drank last night.

A deep groan from the male at your side further frazzled you. You sat still, chest heaving with each breath you took. Your chest threatened to constrict your airflow. You couldn’t even blame your clothing for restricting your airflow, since you could see your unlaced corset laid against a chaise near the plush bed.

However, despite your frozen state, the body next to you jarred. You held your breath, waiting for him to rise and notice you. You wanted to make a quick, sensible escape, as fast as possible. 

Thank the gods above, he didn’t wake. Just shifted his position to lay on his stomach, hands pressed underneath the pillow. 

One second. Two. And at three, you rose, quickly dressing as fast as you could without your usual maids to assist you. Your corset was poorly laced, and your gown was in a rumpled state far unbecoming of the dazzling beaded gown it had been. You didn’t even  _ want _ to think about the state of your makeup and hair. You wondered if your rouge had been wiped off, or if it was replaced with a different kind of flushed tone as a result of your anxiety and fear. 

Thankfully, you were a guest at the House of Yeager, so all you had to do was artfully sneak to your room, having spent the past few weeks becoming accustomed to the movement of the maids and servants and the like. Running past portraits and statues, you finally reached the large wood door of your room. 

Inside, Princess Historia Reiss awaited, perched daintily on your favorite cushion, a pale blue dress draped over it, flowing from below her bust. She raised an eyebrow, and you prepared yourself for the onslaught of questions despite your pounding headache.

_ Oh for fuck’s sake, _ you thought.  _ Just my luck. _

{~}

_ “Lady L/N,” Zeke said, blue eyes shining beneath his glasses’ lens. He dropped to his knees, and you  _ knew.

_ “Call me Y/N,” you said, daintily lowering your gaze to meet him. _

_ “Very well, then. Y/N, I have been dazzled by you since the moment you first stepped into the ball. You were the diamond of the season,” Zeke said, voice booming with pride, as if he already married you and your accomplishments were his. _

_ “You are the rarest of jewels, and I would love nothing more than to have you in my collection. Will you grant me your hand in marriage, and become Duchess Yeager?” You wanted to furrow your eyebrows in concern at his metaphor — having you in his  _ collection? —  _ but instead, you forced your face into one of a beauteous surprise. You knew what he meant, anyway. Your lips puckered into an O shape, and you made your chest rise as you took in a breath. _

_ “Oh, Your Grace! I could never disagree with you.” You felt the eyes of the entire town on you, as Zeke had deigned to propose while the two of you had been promenading, surrounded by the watchful eyes of the public.  _

_ Zeke rose to his full height, towering over you. He slipped a heavy, thick gold band adorned jewels onto your ring finger. It felt like a purchase, not a proposal — but you hid all thoughts like that behind.  _

_ Duke Zeke Yeager was handsome. Intelligent. Well titled and wealthy. Sweet, when he tried. And you were to be his wife. You, the diamond of the season, with the most sought after man in Paradiston. _

_ A perfect match, right? _

_ The pair of green eyes that watched the two of you get congratulated by nobility begged to differ, but you didn’t know it. _

{~}

“Eren Yeager,” Historia said slowly, as if she were tasting his name on her tongue.

You groaned, face in your hands. “Eren Yeager.”

“And does he … know?”

You shook your head ferociously. “No — he was drunker than I was. He … won’t remember a thing.”

“But you will,” Historia said knowingly. The two of you had been raised together, as a product of her father having entrusted her care to your guardian Marquess Willy Tybur. Historia was the bastard child of the king and a maid, and you were an orphan not possessing the Tybur last name because Willy had taken you in from the household of his commoner late best-friend. You had both been alone in the world, until you found each other. She could read your emotions as well as you could read her own. 

“I will,” you said sadly. “I — I am worried that I could be … with child.” You whispered the last portion, unwilling to say the dastardly words aloud.

Historia swallowed tightly. “I don’t mean to pry, but — how far did you two go? Do you remember? What did you do?” 

“We kissed, and he t-touched me. And he t-tasted me,” you said, your words wobbling for each sexual action.

Historia sighed, put at peace. “That’s it? He didn’t put anything inside you?”

You shook your head. “No. But I was naked, and so was he.”

“You swear you remember the whole thing?”

“Crystal clear.”

“Well, in that case — did  _ you _ touch him? Taste him?”

“Fuck, Historia, how are you just  _ saying _ that? And I might’ve done both. I — tasted him. Only that much else.”

Historia smirked. “First of all,  _ fuck- _ ing is what you should be worried about, not  _ words _ , especially not if you’re deigning to curse like that. And second of all, why are you so clueless about this? Don’t you remember those scandalous books we read?”

You sniffed. “I learned from a certain someone. And I tried to erase those books from my head.”

“Oh? Wait! Was it Ymir?”

Now it was your turn to smirk. “Of course it was Ymir.” Historia shook her head, cheeks coloring. You guessed it was from annoyance. Historia and Ymir had a certain dynamic. Almost identical to yours and Eren’s, you thought. But at least Historia and Ymir wouldn’t end up in bed together. And if they  _ did _ , you hoped Historia would trust to tell you.

“Well, at least one thing’s clear. This  _ won’t _ come back to bite you in the arse, whether in the form of a child or a memory. All it will do is cause  _ you  _ to look funny at Eren every once in a while.”

“Oh god, Historia. What if he remembers?” Your heart sped up at the thought.

“There’s no way. With the amount of sheets he’s supposedly been in between, you’ll be a faded memory whether he chooses to remember or not.”

Her words didn’t help you feel any better. In fact, you felt worse. But you chalked it up, and addressed Historia again.

“In that case, let’s forget this ever happened. Could you dress me? I’m afraid I can’t trust the maids here. I told one of them that I despised Zeke’s new glasses more than I could ever tell him, and the next day the spectacles were replaced by his old pair, albeit newer. I had never told him anything about that, and I knew for a fact he was extremely proud of the new pair.” You shivered, thinking of what the maids would have to report to His Grace had they seen your gown and underclothes. 

And then, you shivered for an entirely different reason, thinking of your underclothes under Eren’s hands. Historia was speaking of something, but your mind flashed back to moments with each beat of your heart, even if you didn’t want to.

_ His fingers around your neck.  _ A beat. _ His tongue between your legs.  _ A beat. _ His mouth on yours.  _ A beat. _ His teeth sinking into your breasts.  _ A beat. _ His hands, pinning you down.  _ A beat. __

_ Your fingers splayed against the hardness of his chest.  _ A beat. _ Your tongue, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw.  _ A beat. _ Your mouth, sucking his cock.  _ A beat. _ Your teeth, marking his neck. Your hands, pulling his hair.  _ A beat. __

You wished you had been the one to forget instead. How would you live with the knowledge of Eren’s touch, when you were betrothed to his older brother? How could you forget?

You swallowed, resolute. You couldn’t — wouldn’t — question how. You would simply do your best to forget everything. And it had to eventually become a distant memory, drowned out by the new memories you were determined to create with your actual husband-to-be. Zeke, not Eren. And yet, your every heartbeat came with thoughts of Eren, not Zeke.  _ How, indeed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of a proper flashback, but at the moment, Reader (Y/N) doesn’t want to confront the reality of the full event. I look forward to your lovely comments, and please check out my other stories if you can, since they have more chapters out and will be regularly updated. Also, I am unsure of how to treat Zeke in this fic, so let me know your thoughts. Also if you’re 18+ (which you hopefully are since this fic is mature and will possibly become explicit in the future) and looking for Zeke stories to read I highly recommend anything by the author present-mel if you haven't already, love her writing. (Sidenote, this is funny to me, but I think I have different spellings of Yeager/Jaeger depending on my fic? LMFAO. For this one, Yeager felt right.)
> 
> Also, on the update side of things, given that I have three other fics going on right now, I don’t think this will have a stable update schedule. Just whenever a violin cover moves me to write haha


	2. one house

“So you can’t remember the girl?” Armin asked, taking a sip of his tea. He sat in his chair with his spine ram-rod straight, legs poised. The only son of Baron and Baroness Arlert, he had much better table manners than Eren, who despite being a duke’s son only lounged lazily, draping his arm over the back of his chair. He was _this_ close to putting his feet up on the dining table, but he didn't want to ruin the beautiful brunch spread the dining staff had created on short notice for Eren and his two best friends.

“Sounds just like our rake in residence,” snorted Viscount Jean Kirstein. His parents hadn’t passed yet, but had taken to giving their son his title earlier on. He looked at Eren with a disdainful expression, but there was enough mirth in his eyes to make Eren realize he was mostly joking, and trying to force the disdainful look.

“Yeah — I’ve got nothing to identify her by besides a gold chain I found in between my sheets.” Eren pulled the said chain out of his pockets, having decided to carry it on his person always. He wished that the chain belong to a certain someone. _But I've never seen it on her,_ he thought.

Armin opened the palm of his hand to inspect it.

“Alright. Judging from the weight of the gold, this girl comes from a wealthy family, or she has a wealthy benefactor. If she’s sleeping with the likes of you—” Eren coughed forcefully, glaring at Armin. Armin rolled his eyes and continued.

“It’s most likely the latter. Your reputation precedes you, Eren. Everyone in the ton knows exactly which girls you’ve defiled.”

Eren scowled. “It could be the former, too — and it’s hardly  _ defiling. _ That makes it sound dirty. It’s just sex.” 

“What’s just sex?” asked a voice. The person came up to Armin and Jean’s table, and plucked an apple from the center fruit bowl. From the sound of his bite, the apple was as crisp as the red color of it was bright. Only perfect apples for the oh-so-perfect Duke Yeager, 6th in line to the throne through his mother’s side, just past the legitimate Reiss children. Though it was rumored that King Reiss would do whatever necessary to keep his family line on the throne, meaning that Zeke’s position could be pushed back if necessary, with Princess Historia replacing the 6th spot.

Eren sighed, planning to remind Armin to talk quietly next time. His brother’s office was just around the corner past the dining room. He was going to be lectured yet again. 

“Nothing,” Eren said, brushing it off. He picked up a chocolate scone just to fill his mouth up to avoid talking. 

Predictably, Jean wanted to fill the silence. He smirked, and began explaining, unaware of how bad this could get. Eren couldn’t fault his friend, even if he wanted to. Besides, the damage had already been done just  _ bringing up _ sex, especially when time and time again Eren had been lectured on the topic.

“Eren’s looking for a mystery girl,” Jean said, excitement evident. “Blew his brains out. Literally and figuratively. But he can’t remember her. Think you can find her?” Jean snatched the chain out of Armin’s hand, to show Zeke. 

Zeke frowned at the necklace. “It  _ does _ look familiar. But I can’t say from where. It is rather plain, though, like the necklace was saved up for.” Eren knew he was genuine about his logic, as his blond eyebrows were twisting in thought.

Eren took the necklace out of Jean’s hands, and pocketed it. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll just be a dream walker for me now.” 

“Dream walker?” Zeke asked.

“Self-explanatory, brother,” Eren said. “I’ll just dream of her.” 

“Hmm,” Zeke said. “Thought it was some youthful lingo. Another euphemism for sex.” His voice was clipped, and Eren knew the annoyance was brewing into something more furious the more he kept his thoughts to himself.

Jean noticed, and regret flashed across his eyes. “Er, Zeke—”

“Duke Yeager’s fine,” Zeke said crisply.

Jean’s jaw clenched. Eren wanted to groan: now he had two angry men to deal with when all he wanted was to find the girl, maybe fuck her again and again until neither of them could walk. Oh, and he wanted to drink a hangover cure. The usual ginger lemon tea wasn’t cutting this one.

“Anyway, Viscount Kirstein, Sir Arlert. You two should get going. I understand Marquess Tybur will be throwing a ball this evening or the next, to officially celebrate Y/N’s and I’s engagement, since it was just announced at the ball last night. I'll see you again then,” Zeke said dismissively, with a slight warning of don't-come-back-till-then.

“Lady L/N,” Eren snapped. “If you’re going to be so high and mighty, address her correctly, too.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Now Eren was angry, too. The girl from last night might’ve been the best shag he’d ever had, even if he could barely remember much beyond the amazing feelings — but Y/N was his ultimate dream girl. He’d loved her since they’d met as children, that day in the gardens. He hadn’t realized then, though. He’d realized too late … 

Zeke narrowed his eyes. “She is to be my wife, even if she was promised to you first. I don’t need that kind of permission.”

“Wife-to-be or not, propriety is not for you to pick and choose.  _ I’m  _ a so called rake, so  _ I _ can call her Y/N.” Eren felt his temperature rise, face heating up in anger the more he spoke with his brother. Tensions between them had been at an all time high ever since it became clear their motives were clashing. Once upon a time, they’d been thick as thieves. But certain things messed that up. 

“Ah, Jean and I will take our leave now. Pardon,” Armin said, throwing a concerned look at Eren. The unsaid words of “before things get rough” hung unsaid in Armin’s tone. Eren smiled gratefully before turning his ire onto his brother again. Jean and Armin exited.

“Eren, I don’t understand why you’re behaving like this. Ever since your mother died, you’ve been—”

“ _ Your _ mother?” Eren asked, incredulous. “She raised you, too! I knew it. I knew you secretly couldn’t care less. You didn’t even come back for her funeral. You only came when father was on his deathbed, you bastard!”

That was the breaking point, judging by how Zeke furiously pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, readying quick, hurtful comebacks. “Bastard? ME?” Zeke laughed sardonically. “Look who’s talking. Father married your commoner mother just months after mother passed away due to respiratory illness. An illness borne in the commoner's lungs! You’re closer to being a bastard than I am, and don’t even get me started on how you think more with your prick than your goddamn head!” 

Eren clenched his fists, not caring so much about the insults to his reputation; he’d grown used to that. What hurt was how Zeke spoke of his dear mother. “You fucker. Mother raised you with all the love and care in her heart, and all you did was run away from it.”

“I didn’t run from her. I ran from Father!” Zeke yelled gruffly, throwing whatever was on the table to ground with a wave of his arms. The sound of shattering glass filled the heavy silence in the room.

“What’s going on?” asked a feminine voice. "Are the two of you alright?"

Eren whipped his head to face you, heart knowing who you were before his senses caught up. It was you. His certain someone. Lady Y/N L/N. Looking beautiful as ever, not a hair out of place, dress flowing from your waist. You looked like a beautiful sculpture brought to life, painstakingly carved to perfection just for Eren's eyes only. He wished he had never rejected the arrangement, that he had treated you better. In another life, you would’ve been  _ his _ bride-to-be. Not Zeke's. If only he’d been less hard-headed, felt less restricted and aching for “freedom.” He'd realized far too late that _his_ brand of freedom was in the way you used to laugh with him, smile at him with your eyes crinkling in the corners. If only, if only, if only. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, even if I was supposed to be writing the next chapter of To Love and To Hate right now haha! Feeling energized about this fic, if only because my brain is stirring up the necessary drama now LMAO. This will be kind of frenemies to lovers with Eren, and I still have yet to decide on Zeke. His characterization is escaping me! I’m currently aiming for him to be a combination of toxic and sickly sweet and awkward and angsty and longing for love, which you will experience soon enough. Let me know all your thoughts because H.i.t.C is def the hardest fic I’m writing and I could use some opinions to frame my ideas around. And please check out my other stories, love0 <3! 
> 
> (Quick timey-wimey stuff to clarify things I haven’t directly mentioned yet but are important and so may be confusing: Zeke is 25, Eren and Y/N are 19 (I aged canon Zeke down a bit). Eren’s mother passed away when Eren was 18 in this world, and shortly after, so did Grisha, so Zeke has only been back for a year to retake his title after having run away. And, your engagement to Zeke is as new as about a few days, hence why that engagement segment last chapter was a quick flashback. It was quickly announced at the ball you and Eren attended right before falling into bed together, but will be officially celebrated at Tybur’s ball since he is your technical guardian.)


End file.
